Stronger Now Than We Ever Were
by Jag-Fel
Summary: Starting after 'Family Ties' and going roughly AU from there, this is a tale in which Cameron is tortured, Teal’c says ‘indeed’, Daniel is baffled, and Sam tries to figure everything out in time. Pretty much standard SG1. CC, with DV, SJ and some HK.
1. Who We Were

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

* * *

_Starting after __Family Ties__ and going roughly AU from there, this is a tale in which Cameron is tortured, Teal'c says 'indeed', Daniel is baffled, and Sam tries to figure everything out in time. Also featured are General Landry, Doctor Carolyn Lam, General Jack O'Neill, Vala Mal Duran, and others. Cam/Carolyn primarily, but major appearances from Daniel/Vala, Jack/Sam, and light Hank/Kim._

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

* * *

A cool breeze blew through Colorado Springs that spring evening. As he hustled through traffic and jogged into the restaurant his daughter had told him to arrive at, Major General Hank Landry, USAF Commanding Officer of the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base and Stargate Command, quickly checked himself over to ensure himself – for the nineteenth time since leaving the Mountain – that he looked fine. He hadn't work his patched jacket like Carolyn had warned, there were no coffee spills or other stains present on his outfit, he had remembered to use the small electric razor from the glove box in his car, and he'd even taken some time to comb his short hair while driving over. As he jaunted in, Hank was reminding himself tonight that he was just _Hank_; there was no General Landry for all intensive purposes. After all, General Landry was the man who had gotten them all into the situation they were in now.

Hank was sitting down and conversing with Kim and Carolyn when Cameron Mitchell returned from the washroom. He'd stepped aside for a moment, letting Carolyn have a few minutes with her mother before Hank did or did not arrive. Cameron let the reunited family have a few moments to break the ice and so returned to the washroom to wash his hands... again. By the time he returned, his hands feeling remarkably clean and sparkling fresh, Hank and Kim seemed to be talking amicably with Carolyn seeming every bit the awkward outsider while her parents reacquainted after their five-year separation. Carolyn caught his eye and waved him over, so Cameron took that moment to return and ease himself into the trio's conversation.

"Mitchell," Hank said, only partially surprised to see him join them. Carolyn hadn't mentioned that her boyfriend would be present for dinner when Hank had talked to her and arranged the meeting with her at the base, but the topic had come out over the course of waiting for the man to return from the lavatory. He had only agreed to come after Carolyn's repeated insistence; she didn't particularly want to be alone with her parents.

Cam returned Hank's greeting with a nod. "Evening, sir."

The waiter arrived and offered a refreshing break from the muted awkwardness. The conversation picked back up after the meal had been ordered, both couples settled into the ease of each other's company and managed a passable family meal. Hank and Kim seemed to ignore the entire world around them as they ate and talked as if they hadn't been apart for over five years. Seeing that dinner was going so well, Carolyn had hardly stopped smiling through the entire meal. Cameron couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her look so happy. Her grabbed her hand across the table and squeezed it gently, giving her his undivided attention. Her smile, like everything else about Carolyn, was brilliant and full. She never settled for halfway.

Dinner had been done for some time at that point, the quartet surviving solely on red wine, so Cam and Carolyn took that as their cue to leave the other couple in peace and let them catch up without scrutiny.

"Cam and I should be going," Carolyn said, standing up and tossing her shawl over her arm. "Someone has an early mission tomorrow," she gave both Cam and her father a significant glance, almost a glare with regard to her father, but easing the look with one of her softer smiles.

"Right," Hank said, standing to offer his daughter a hug. "I'll see you both tomorrow," Hank reached out and shook Cam's hand. "Thank you for joining us tonight, son."

Cam offered one of his winning grins, full of Southern charm. "Anytime, sir. If there's one thing I do well, it's break the ice."

"And fall through it, if I remember correctly," Carolyn added matter-of-factly, alluding to the time SG-1 had brought a very cold, very hypothermic Cameron Mitchell back from some ice planet. He'd managed to find the only fault line on the entire ice crust and fall through it, plunging himself into the arctic waters and forcing the rest of the team to drag him out by the canvas loops on his rucksack.

He just coughed and tried to ignore the thinly veiled comment directed at him. Landry shared a knowing grin with his daughter before the younger couple left, leaving him and Kim alone at last.

-+-

Throughout the whole ride home, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. He drove, one hand on the wheel and the other on the shifter or center console, but her hand was always entwined with his. Every few moments their eyes met, sharing small smiles or a wink. At a red light, only a few blocks from his apartment, they shared a kiss and briefly forgot where they were. A loud _honk_ interrupted the intimate moment, reminding the driver that he should probably make use of that lead foot of his and get them home.

On the porch outside the building they met in a warm embrace, just glad to be together another day. Cameron leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of Carolyn's nose, sparking a lighter moment that had them both erupting in laughter and smiles. "Let's get inside," Carolyn suggested, hesitantly breaking the embrace and pulling him along with her.

"Let's," Cam replied, keying the door and dragging her inside with him.

He dropped his coat on the chair right inside the door, shucking his shoes off one by one and joining Carolyn on the living room couch. It was more a futon really; heavy wood framing that could be adjusted and laid out to form a bed, covered in a thick midnight blue mattress that almost matched Carolyn's blouse exactly. He flopped down beside her, wrapping his arms around her and letting her melt into his touch. The familiarity they shared was natural now. They'd been seeing each other for quite a while, since around the time Cameron had his invisible adventure with Merlin's cloaking device, and they'd both grown close and learned how to live with and love the other.

"Carolyn," Cam whispered at last.

"Hmm?" she replied, her eyes closed in comfort as she leaned into Cam's strong shoulder.

"Thanks for inviting me out tonight."

She adjusted herself so she was cradled in his arm, but able to look up at him now. "I'm glad you came. It saved my sanity."

Cam laughed. "They got along fine."

"Yeah," she sounded surprised. "I wonder if they killed each other after we left, though."

"Unlikely, but possible," he replied, brushing a lock of hair off her face. "You think they'll get back together?"

Carolyn blinked a few times before simply shrugging. "I don't know. It'd be nice if they did. A dysfunctional as we are, it would still be nice to be a real family again."

Cam nodded thoughtfully.

She regarded him for a long moment, his mind far away. "What has you all introspective and thoughtful tonight? You look miles away. Where's my Cam?"

A laugh. "Just thinkin' 'bout everything," his accent came through thicker than usual.

"Everything is a fairly broad subject," she intoned, poking his chin teasingly.

"Yeah," he looked down at her. "I was just thinkin' about your parents fixin' their relationship, and Daniel proposing to Vala an' all that. Sam and General O'Neill have their honeymoon coming up too."

It was Carolyn's turn to nod thoughtfully. She shifted in his arms again. "How do you feel about marriage, honey?"

That was the million-dollar question. "My parents have been married for around forty years, so it can definitely work, but I ain't idealistic enough to ignore the stats that everyone tosses around these days. Divorce rate in the military is up around fifty-percent."

"Wow," she'd never heard Cam be so analytical. It certainly wasn't what she'd expected from him when she'd asked about marriage. "You ever thought about us?"

"Sure," he said as if it were obvious. "You?"

"Of course. I'm a girl, Cam. I've had the wedding planned out since I was 8 or so," she ignored his laugh, sticking her tongue out at him in reply. "It's what we do."

"Who'd you imagine the groom to be?"

"I never imagined that. I just kept it blank so I could fill the face in with whichever flame of the week," now she laughed.

Cam squirreled his face up in mock-horror, attacking his girlfriend at her sides, tickling her mercilessly. "So you think you could marry this guy someday?"

"I think I could imagine it," she said with absolute seriousness, laying her hand on his arm. "I love you, Cam."

He leaned down for a kiss. "I love you too, babe."

They broke the kiss off. She glanced at the clock in the nearby kitchen. _0100. Cam has to be at the base by 0600; I don't start shift until 0800_. Cam was thinking the exact same thing; you could practically read the lamenting look on his face. "What do you say we postpone this discussion until you get back?" She touched his face lightly, turning his chin so that their eyes locked. "And then we'll talk about it more then?"

"Sounds good," he said with one of his big, goofy grins. He leaned back into the stack of pillows – pillows, one should remember, that appeared only after he and Carolyn had been dating for a few months – and wrapped his arms around her protectively. It wouldn't be the first time that they ignored the queen-size bed in his bedroom. They seemed to fall asleep in each other's arms on the futon on what seemed like a weekly basis. Despite the odd sleeping positions it often resulted in, they both had their best nights' of rest together on that futon.

For now, though, it was simply about enjoying the company you had around you, resting before what would be an eventful week, and looking forward to the future.

* * *

And thus concludes Chapter 1 of Stronger Now Than We Ever Were, the prodigal (and promised) hurt!Cam fic. The next chapter will outline the mentioned mission and proceed from there, so I hope you enjoyed this and are looking forward to the rest. More to come within the week. Thanks for reading. Please review! 


	2. The Great Outdoors

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

* * *

_Starting after __Family Ties__ and going roughly AU from there, this is a tale in which Cameron is tortured, Teal'c says 'indeed', Daniel is baffled, and Sam tries to figure everything out in time. Also featured are General Landry, Doctor Carolyn Lam, General Jack O'Neill, Vala Mal Duran, and others. Cam/Carolyn primarily, but major appearances from Daniel/Vala, Jack/Sam, and light Hank/Kim._

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

* * *

Chapter II: The Great Outdoors

It took every ounce of willpower and determination to get Cameron Mitchell out of bed. He arose an hour early, careful to not disturb the sleeping Carolyn as he went about preparing for the day. His first stop was the shower. Cam quickly slipped out of the clothes he'd fallen asleep in, discarding them in the bathroom hamper, and stepped under the steaming downpour. Though he never spent enough time enjoying it, there was something about a warm, steamy shower that Cameron found blissful and immensely satisfying. However it, like all good things, must come to an end. He reluctantly switched off the water supply and stepped out. Cam dried off briskly and wrapped a towel around his waist, brushing his teeth as he leisurely strolled to the bedroom.

As Cameron dressed into the familiar Air Force blue battle dress uniform that was his dress of the day, he hummed a tune his father used to whistle when he was a kid. Cam was almost fully dressed by the time Carolyn appeared, leaning bodily against the bedroom door. He smiled as she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and looked the consummate 'sleepyhead'. She came over and joined him on the edge of the bed while he finished lacing up his Magnum boots.

"Morning," she murmured at last, leaning into him as she had the door. "You smell good," she added, evoking a chuckle and the barest hint of a blush from Cameron.

"Thanks," he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. "I think I'm gonna miss you."

She nodded against his shoulder, face buried in his neck. "We can survive a week, right?"

"I sure hope so."

Cam pressed a kiss to her forehead, climbing to his feet and grabbing his partially loaded rucksack from the easy chair. He struck a superhero pose, feet wide apart and his fists at his hip. "How do I look?"

"Like a goof," she announced and joined him across the room. As they embraced again, she felt Cam melting into her arms. When they were together he was more like a big teddy bear than an Air Force colonel, the commanding officer of SG-1. Maybe Cameron wasn't the most complicated of men, but Carolyn didn't care. They got along well, he treated her like an equal and loved her very much, but most importantly, he _showed_ her how much he cared at every opportunity. They held the embrace for a little longer, but Cam forced himself to break it. He offered her a half smile and said he had to get going or her father would have his ass.

Carolyn nodded knowingly. "Stay safe."

"That's not exactly a SG-1 prerogative," he remarked, but seeing her stern look, nodded. "I'll try. Stay out of trouble without me, hey?"

Her lips curled up in a big smile as she herded him out the door. On the porch she paused for one last goodbye kiss before watching him jog off to his car. As she watched the Mustang drive off, Carolyn couldn't shake an overwhelming feeling of dread.

Cameron parked the Mustang in the personnel parking area at Cheyenne Mountain and shouldered his rucksack. He paid careful mind to ensure nothing valuable was left in the classic car. After locking the door manually, Cam pocketed his keys and turned just in time to get a vivid eyeful of General O'Neill and Sam Carter just across the parking bay. He couldn't help but feel like a third wheel or a voyeur to an intimate moment as Jack leaned down and kissed his new wife, sharing a quick embrace before Sam left on yet another mission. It was the same goodbye that Cam had just gone through moments before with Carolyn; he knew exactly how they felt. Cam, like most of the SGC, knew that the Sam and Jack relationship had only been waiting to be free of Air Force chain of command regulations. As soon as General O'Neill had been transferred to DC, they'd been engaged shortly thereafter.

He walked past the couple, clearing his voice loudly. Jack glanced over Sam's shoulder and released her from his embrace, shooting Cameron a nasty look. "Don't you have a team to brief or something, Mitchell?"

"Yes, sir," Cam replied, winking at the general. "But you seem to be holding a quarter of it hostage."

Sam gently shoved Jack back. The older man grumbled about mutiny. "It's not mutiny anymore, Jack. It's insubordination now," she laughed at her husband.

"You've always been insubordinate," Jack groaned, glancing at Cameron. "But now you're something else entirely!"

"A wife?" a new arrival suggested with a well-natured chuckle.

Jack looked like he was about to agree with Daniel Jackson when Sam playfully punched him on the shoulder. He, unlike Daniel, Cam, and his own wife, was dressed in civilian clothing, just jeans and a jacket. There was no decorum for an off duty general officer, especially for a Major General Jack O'Neill. "Control your team, Colonel," Jack asked of Cam.

"I've long since given up trying to control these people," Cam said, gesturing widely. "I just supervise. I'm more like a babysitter, really."

Jack just glared.

----

Less than an hour later the team had been briefed by Cameron, were issued weapons, and were waiting in the Gate room for their go ahead. General Landry had just arrived and gave last minute approval for SG-1's mission. He winked at Cameron and wished them all luck.

"We're doomed," Cameron muttered as they checked their weapons and waited for the Stargate's event horizon.

"What do you mean, Colonel Mitchell?" Teal'c's grave voice and raised eyebrow intoned to the team leader.

Daniel and Sam were both watching Cam with looks mirroring Teal'c's curiosity while Cam finished checking his mag pouches and grenade pockets. "He's never done that before."

"Done what?"

"Winked at me."

"You're right," Daniel said with a heavy sigh. "We're doomed. Anyone give me seven-to-one odds on Mitchell getting hurt?"

"Hey!" Cam protested.

His indignation was lost on Teal'c. "I too have noticed that Colonel Mitchell is often injured on missions."

"Hey!" Cam realized he had lost the upper hand and was at his team's mercy now. "If anyone gets hurt, it's Teal'c."

"Teal'c is more prone to capture," Daniel supplied, peering over his glasses.

"And you're the one who gets transported, teleported, or transmogrified by some alien doohickey," Cameron muttered, very satisfied to finally get a hit in.

Daniel was about to muster a retort when Sergeant Harriman announced the last chevron had been locked and the event horizon bubbled outward, creating the stable wormhole through which SG-1 would be traveling to P4X-911. At the briefing with General Landry earlier in the week, all three human members of SG-1 had expressed their shared distrust in any planet with a codename of '911'. It was just begging for the team to spend the following week in the infirmary. General Landry had laughed off their concerns. Even Teal'c, who only realized the numbers from his experience with human television and movies, expressed his concern, citing it as a 'bad omen' for the SGC's flagship team that seemed to find ample trouble on their own without having to go looking for it.

"Move out," Cameron commanded, pointing his hand like a pistol. Daniel took point, Sam behind him, with Teal'c and Cam bringing up the rear. General Landry's good wishes were the last thing the team heard before stepping through the horizon and being near-instantaneously transported to their destination.

----

When SG-1 had arrived at P4X-911, they were in for a long hike over treacherous terrain. The village they were doing anti-Ori reconnaissance on was a good fifteen miles from the Stargate. While that meant a great deal more exercise than anyone had desired, it also gave them ample time to plan and prepare their reconnoitering plans. Cameron had drawn up a route map ahead of time that detailed their goal progress, fallback points, ideal recon positions, and emergency rendezvous areas. They went over a last minute briefing before leaving the Stargate behind and making their way inland toward their destination.

As they walked, the picturesque scenery of '911' struck each team member. Blue and purple snow-capped mountains seemed to stretch for the very clouds. Their slopes were covered with great expanses of coniferous forest; small breaks in vegetation allowed for crystal clear mountain rivers and springs, visible even from SG-1's patrol route. So far they'd made no contact with natural wildlife or indigenous people, though that had been expected as per the initial mission briefing. SG-7 had conducted the initial route recce and was the scouting party that the entire SG-1 follow-up mission had been based off.

Hiking toward the central village had taken the better part of the day. By the time Mitchell ordered the team to make camp, they were still around two miles from their destination. SG-1 went about preparing their bivouac site, selecting ideal locations to set-up groundsheets and the digital-camouflage tarp that, when secured with bungee cords, would serve as the ceiling to their pup tents. The sun had set earlier than expected. SG-7's daytime estimate had obviously been off, but it made little matter for SG-1, who were long-used to settling in after dark. Cameron had finished rolling out his sleeping bag beneath the small tent and set to gathering foliage to mask his sleeping area. Even though their tarps and equipment were camouflage, anyone who came close enough would still recognize the tents as being out of place, so they saw to thoroughly masking their location.

"Reminds me of camping with my uncle," Daniel remarked finally, sitting on a stump he'd found and brought over near his campsite.

Cameron looked up from cleaning the bolt of his Heckler & Koch G36 assault rifle. "Dad an' I always used to go camping, sleep out under the stars. Before he got hurt, at least."

Sam glanced sideways at her friend, noting the sallow expression that had taken over Cam. He always seemed to wrap himself up inside an emotional cocoon when something reminded him of his father's injury. That memory always lead to the one of his own injuries, which, she knew, made his knees ache sympathetically. "At least there's no fishing," she remarked, trying to lighten the mood by making mention of her husband's favorite pastime.

"I for one am glad there is no fishing," Teal'c announced quietly, adhering to noise discipline, but enjoying their moments of camaraderie. Teal'c had told them all, more than once, that he enjoyed the opportunities they had for sharing stories and memories. He often listened more than he offered, but the other members of SG-1 past and present never seemed to tire of hearing their own voices.

The rest of the team shared Teal'c's assessment, sharing a quiet laugh together before racking out. Cameron watched Daniel check his watch, muttering about offworld timezones. "Rack time?"

Daniel nodded briefly. "The way I figure, despite SG-7's inaccurate assessment, we've got about 6 hours until sunrise. Which..."

"...Gives us about 5 hours of sleep," Cam added, returning the newly greased bolt to his rifle and running over a quick functions test. "Alright, people," he whispered. "Hit your 'sacks. Reveille at 0530 local."

As per schedule, SG-1 rose at 0530 and quickly collapsed the bivouac site, returning their tents and groundsheets to the valises on their rucksacks. On the far horizon, the side without mountains, the sun's earliest rays of light were only just beginning to paint a broad streak of blue-purple with the barest hints of day. Teal'c, now taking point with his P90 held ready, lead the patrol toward the town. When they were within approximately five hundred yards of the town they came to the first recce point. With hand signals, Cameron gestured for Sam and Teal'c to stay and recon for that point while he and Daniel crawled along a low ridge toward another several yards away.

The sun had began to rise as Daniel and Cam arrived at their cover. The small village slowly came to light. What SG-1 saw was certainly not what they expected. Bodies littered the city streets, but not enough to suggest the entire village had been wiped out. Several of the forms appeared to be wearing the armor of Jaffa guards, while others seemed to be clad in the heavy leather and plate armor of Ori soldiers. There were few if any dead civilians in site, as Teal'c mentioned over the radios.

"Carter, Teal'c," Cam whispered over their mics. "Move out from your position nice and slow like. We're moving closer to recon the village and see if anyone is left."

"Acknowledged," was his reply, though it was voiced so quietly that Cameron didn't know who had replied.

Cam took point as he and Daniel crawled over the ridge on their bellies, slowly maneuvering to a better vantage point. As they grew nearer the village, Daniel crawled up and tapped Cam on the boot. Cam quickly glanced back to see Daniel point toward a Jaffa patrol. The four armored men were advancing on the well behind which Teal'c and Sam were hiding. Cam's first instinct was to alert them by radio, but as he reached for it, Daniel shook his head. They both knew that any sound would definitely give away both positions, so Cam chose to remain quiet and hope the patrol bypassed Sam and Teal'c.

It did. The four men, with martial precision and dedication to drill, turned on a dime and marched back into the town silently. With the coast clear, Daniel and Cameron advanced on their originally planned cover, a low hut, likely for livestock or a pet, on the very outskirts. Cam was just checking the safety on his rifle when Daniel tapped his foot animatedly again. He turned around and came face to face with the heads of two staff weapons.

"Drop your weapons," the impossibly large Jaffa leader growled.

Cameron sighed with the same enthusiasm Daniel had shown just seconds earlier. He surrendered his Beretta, rifle, and zat to the _second_ Jaffa patrol. As he handed over the last weapon, the mic on his radio clicked.

"Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c whispered. "I believe these Jaffa serve Ba'al."

Holding his hands up in surrender and noticing the tattoos on the Jaffa's foreheads for the first time, Cam glanced at Daniel. Together they said, "We know."

* * *

And thus concludes #2. I had alot of fun with this one, considering I just finished an all-weekend reconaissance exercise. Hope you all enjoyed it. The next chapter should be up by the weekend or early next week, time permitting. 

NOTE: I _refuse_ to apologize for the cliffhanger.


	3. And Away We Go

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

* * *

_Thus continues __Stronger__, with the consequences of being captured on '911'. Cue scene._

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

* * *

Chapter III: And Away We Go

By the time 'Juggernaut' – the name Cameron had unofficially given to the behemoth of a Jaffa who had captured him and the rest of SG-1 – rounded up the rest of his team, Cam was thoroughly and summarily frustrated with the situation he'd managed to get everyone into. It had, after all, been he who ordered SG-1 to advance from their safe hidey-holes and recon the village. At a glance, Teal'c and Samantha Carter seemed the most at ease given their situation, while Daniel looked jittery and Cameron looked miles away. The Jaffa contingent had quadrupled in the less than an hour SG-1 spent on their knees and bound at the same end of the village at which they'd been found and captured.

After Juggernaut and his men wandered a short distance off and were conferring with another Jaffa warrior, Daniel glanced at Cameron, trying to get the other man's attention. "Plan?"

Cameron blinked his glazed expression away. "Working on it."

"Anytime now," Daniel suggested, struggling with his bonds.

"Working on it."

Teal'c glanced sidelong at Cameron and raised his eyebrow. Though the team seemed to be looking to Cameron for all the answers, and as team leader he should be the one coming up with answers, they were each running their brains ragged trying to devise an escape from their current situation. The state of being captured was an all too familiar situation for the members of SG-1, and was one in particular of which they were not the biggest fans.

Juggernaut and his friends returned and began dragging a struggling SG-1 to their feet, bodily moving them into a rough column before shepherding the team toward the center of the city. Along the way they were joined by several other cadres of Jaffa warriors who all joined in the death march toward an empty spot in the village square. At the city center, a flicker and shimmer dissolved the picturesque landscape and replaced it with the sturdy hull of a cloaked Goa'uld prison ship. As the ship appeared, Cameron and Daniel shared a glance of mutual dread.

That dread only magnified when a group of new arrivals appeared from inside the Goa'uld ship. Four Jaffa warriors escorted a man in a black and gold robe. He was tall and lean, gray haired, and the manner in which he held himself betrayed an exaggerated opinion of his own self worth. Ba'al, one of the last Goa'uld System Lords, crossed his arms and leered down at SG-1 and their marginally dire situation. "I wouldn't presume to imagine that you'd hope to never see me again," he commented, his eyes flashing with gold and his deep voice still giving off an all too human condescension.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint," Cameron replied wryly.

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" Ba'al left his honor guard and walked close to SG-1, surveying and leering at each member in turn. He stopped in front of Teal'c, giving the man an appraising glance with a small, sinister-looking smile. "Get them aboard. I have plans that I am quite eager to exploit," he announced finally, sweeping his arms in a broad gesture for his Jaffa to follow him onto the vessel and bring the captive SG-1 with them.

At a yell and the sound of several staff weapons discharging their payloads, Ba'al and his entourage quickly glanced back upon the village to the end opposite where SG-1 had been captured earlier in the day. A pair of Jaffa warriors were sprawled on the dirt where they'd fallen, dark burns marring their otherwise pristine armor. Just near the corpses, a group of Ori soldiers were advancing in their fierce plate and leather armor. Each face was obscured by their war helms, their own staff weapons brandished proudly and readily before each soldier and sewing chaos and death wherever they landed as eagerly as they spread their religion.

Ba'al growled and ran aboard his ship, initially forgetting about SG-1, who had found their awaited chance to escape. Teal'c used his impressive physical strength to wrestle Juggernaut's staff weapon away and killed two of his escorts before the huge Jaffa felt off the ramp and bounced off his back, dazed if not unconscious. Sam and Daniel were already racing to the south, in the direction they'd been captured earlier that day. Cameron jumped from the ramp, winced, swore, and took off after them. Teal'c covered their escape, stopping every several bounds to fire a salvo of staff blasts at the beleaguered Jaffa who now found themselves fighting on a loose two front battlefield. However, and luckily for SG-1, the war front Ba'al's men were most concerned about was the one on which they found the Ori soldiers.

As they beat a hasty retreat, Teal'c noticed how Colonel Mitchell was limping and not managing to maintain the same speed that Sam and Daniel were, who had already summited the ridge they'd reconnoitered from earlier. Teal'c came upon Cameron quite quickly, despite his hesitance from firing and covering their retreat. He bent low and lent his shoulder to the struggling man who, he noticed, was favoring his right foot, quite likely from an injury of sorts.

"Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c intoned, perhaps harsher than he intended, but the battle adrenaline was pumping now, and none of them would stop now, not with both Ba'al and the Ori gunning their bodies. The air was thick with tension and a feeling of dire necessity. Necessity to escape.

Cam glanced up at Teal'c and accepted the assistance, struggling across the sandy slope to catch Sam and Daniel who had made their Hail Mary and were racing for the Stargate. At some point during their escape attempt, Cameron glanced back over his and Teal'c's shoulder to see what could only be described as a platoon of Jaffa bearing down on them. Apparently Ba'al's soldiers had made swift work of the small Ori skirmish force and were now intent on retrieving their erstwhile prisoners.

"T, buddy," Cam muttered as they struggled along. "We're in the big kind of trouble."

At that moment Teal'c glanced back at their pursuers and then back down at Mitchell. "Indeed."

----

Daniel skidded to a halt at the DHD. The Stargate's bubble had just erupted from the gate, the event horizon forming as an incoming wormhole was established. The sun sparkling off their polished armor, another squad of Jaffa stepped through the gate. Their staff weapons were already armed and ready as they marched down the stone steps.

"Remember what Mitchell said?" Daniel muttered, huddling against Sam and struggling to use the DHD for cover against the Ba'al Jaffa. "About the mission?"

She glanced at him. "What?"

"Doomed."

Metal footsteps almost echoed off stone as the Jaffa came closer, but at that moment Teal'c and Cameron appeared, though only one was armed. Like some mythological warrior god, Teal'c stood with his staff weapon. Blasts lanced out from the weapon, rocking the Jaffa troops and killing two, whose lifeless bodies clanged and bounced down the Stargate stairs. Cameron scrambled over the ground on his knees, favoring the injured ankle, and joined Daniel and Sam in huddling behind the DHD while Teal'c continued his one-man army rampage.

"T!" Mitchell growled out, fiddling with the laces on his boot to add some additional support to the weak limb. "Clear us a road home."

Teal'c did not reply, but rather continued his game of firing and ducking, eliminating a Jaffa with at least every other staff blast. A quick look to the horizon showed the other group of Jaffa, the ones from the village, was advancing on them very quickly now. They would overtake SG-1's position in a matter of moments. "Hurry!" Teal'c's voice echoed over the din of battle.

Sam quickly hopped to her feet and began dialing the Stargate address for Earth and simultaneously ignoring Daniel as he hovered over her shoulder. After she punched in the last symbol, the event horizon appeared again. Teal'c seemed to have cleared them a path home. SG-1 hopped to their feet and ran through the gate.

Milliseconds later, having traveled thousands of Light-Years, they arrived on the other side, quite glad to feel the familiar metal ramp of the SGC beneath their boots. A security team was mustered at the base of the ramp, with a very alarmed General Landry and curious Vala Mal Duran in the control room. Sam glanced around quickly, realizing SG-1 currently numbered only three.

"Wait, where's Cam?"

----

"Dammit."

Cameron Mitchell, in what could easily be considered the blunder of the century, if not millennium, had not been able to clear the distance to the Stargate and negotiate the awkward stone steps with the same speed Teal'c, Daniel, and Sam had. Instead he'd stumbled along the difficult terrain and had fallen _up_ the stone steps, only to trip at the finish line as the event horizon closed on him. Unfortunately, the rest of the team had not noticed his difficulty and had run ahead of him. He couldn't blame them, though, as it had been a fight or flight reflex... and when you have no weapons with which to defend yourself, flight tends to be the preferable and appropriate option.

"Dammit," Cameron muttered again, scrambling back to the DHD and manually inputting the gate address for Earth. He was activating the fourth chevron when something touched his shoulder. Cam glanced back just in time to see Juggernaut's baby blues again. A frown came to his features just as the titanic Jaffa's metal gauntlet impacted with his temple, and Cam collapsed like a rag doll against the DHD console.

His lucidity came and went, as he was bodily carried over the same awkward terrain they'd marched over the day past. Cameron's only conscious thought was that he was glad he was being carried, rather than dragged, at least. He tried to ignore the comment of "stupid Tau'ri" that could have come from any of the Jaffa, before he blacked out again.

Several hours, or days, later – and he hoped to hell it was just hours - Cameron Mitchell was lying in the center of a room with a distinctly_Egyptian_ feel. The walls were a mix of gunmetal gray and gold. It was then that he realized where he'd been taken. He was on Ba'al's prison ship, a prisoner of the second most sadistic System Lord in Goa'uld history.

"Well that's just lovely," he muttered to himself, staring up at the ceiling and feeling very exposed. They'd taken his clothing and equipment, leaving him in just his black undershirt, boxers, and socks. _Thank God for the socks._ He'd been rather unceremoniously dropped in the center of the room; he now laid like a star with arms and feet spread wide. The floor was cold on the bare backs of his legs and arms, but Cam made no effort to move. He just continued staring at the very ornamental ceiling, and considered the pompous pretentiousness of his captor.

All around he was surrounded by the distinct rumble of the ship's hyperdrive and other vital functions. In the corridor outside his cell, Cam heard the conversations and marching of, what he believed, at least seven different Jaffa. None of them sounded like Juggernaut, at least. Apparently Ba'al wasn't taking any chances this time, if he even was the original Ba'al and not another clone copy. Aside from other intellectual pursuits, like counting Jaffa, admiring the architecture of the ceiling, and learning to play a variety of musical instruments using only the power of his mind, Cameron found himself hoping that the rest of SG-1 had arrived back on Earth just fine, and wishing he could have returned with them. He sighed, and began to hum 'Ride of the Valkyries' by Wagner, though the tune was far less energetic than the version he remembered.

_Doo da doo da doo da doo da doo da doo doo doo... sigh._

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Thanks for reading again. I'm loving all the reviews. I hope this chapter took care off a few of the questions, and hopefully, created even more._  
_


	4. Going Under

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

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_Welcome to chapter 4 of __Stronger__, with some of the team and more of Cameron's captivity. Plot lies ahead!  
_

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

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Chapter IV: Going Under

"You_forgot_ Mitchell?" Vala's voice carried every ounce of indignation she could muster. Her dark eyes glanced over each returned member of SG-1.

General Landry frowned at her, but turned to and focused his attention on SG-1, though of fewer members than nominal. He looked concerned, perhaps more than was appropriate for a commanding officer, but the SGC was more like a family than a military installation sometimes. "Sit Rep," he requested quickly.

Sam Carter, now effectively team leader in Cameron's absence, steeled her expression and squared her shoulders. "We were at the advance recon positions, as per mission scenario. The village looked deserted except for a few bodies," she was meeting Landry's stony look. "There were both dead Jaffa and Ori, sir. We later found out that Ba'al's Jaffa had overtaken the village from a small advance force of Ori soldiers."

"We can only assume that Ba'al's come up with kind of technology to render the Ori's powers ineffective, at least temporarily," Daniel supplied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Vala thought he looked very handsome covered in dirt and all worked up over abandoning a team member. To his credit, Daniel largely managed to ignore her looks. Vala kept moving closer to him throughout their debriefing.

"Whatever they are using, it seemed to work," Sam added.

General Landry looked perplexed. "Are you speculating, or is there more to your little story here, Colonel?"

"Oh yes," Sam amended. "Colonel Mitchell suggested we advance on the town and take a look around, see if we could find any clues about what had happened there. We had just moved to new cover, when the Jaffa appeared."

"Colonel Mitchell and I were the first captured," Teal'c announced, his gruff shame betrayed through the stoic voice.

"It wasn't your fault, Teal'c," Daniel remarked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "None of us could have known there were still Jaffa patrolling the village. We hadn't seen any movement in hours."

"Doctor Jackson is right," Landry remarked evenly. "Let's move this to the briefing room."

SG-1, now light one Cameron Mitchell and plus one Vala Mal Duran, joined the SGC's commanding officer in the small briefing room near the control room. Landry sat and gestured for SG-1 to seat themselves too. "You were saying, Colonel?" he asked of Carter, asking her to continue the debriefing.

"Right, sir," she continued, tapping her fingers against the table. "Colonel Mitchell and Teal'c were captured first, and so couldn't warn us about the other patrol who had just walked past them. The Jaffa captured us all and marched us to the town center. Ba'al had a cloaked ship hidden there, and we were being marched inside just as another group of Ori soldiers started a skirmish at the village perimeter."

Landry steepled his fingers and watched Sam over them. "Was that the same end of town where you had reconned?"

"No, sir, that was to the north. Anyways, as the Ori attacked, Teal'c took out our guards and we took off. Daniel and I were ahead, hoping to get to the gate and have it dialed up by the time Camer – Mitchell, that is - and Teal'c arrived. We got to the Stargate just as another group of Jaffa arrived," Sam was talking quiet animatedly at that point. She was coming down off an adrenaline rush, like her teammates, and was nearly panting. "Teal'c and Mitchell arrived just after us. Mitchell was hurt, he must have injured his ankle on the way."

Teal'c intervened, leaning over the desk. "I believe Colonel Mitchell sprained his ankle when he jumped from the prison ship."

Landry nodded at Teal'c explanation. "Continue."

"Teal'c took out the other Jaffa while I dialed us out. When the Stargate was active, we ran through. I guess none of us thought to check on Mitchell, sir."

"He was definitely alive as you left, though?"

Now Daniel jumped into the conversation. "He was when I left the DHD, sir. He looked flushed, but fine."

Landry nodded a few times. The wheels of his mind were working behind his eyes. "We'll organize a retrieval mission. If Colonel Mitchell is still on 911, we'll find him."

Less than an hour later, General Landry was watching SG-1, now with Vala, and Samantha Carter commanding, suit up and go over a weapons check with several Marines borrowed from SG-9. They were going back to P4X-911 to look for any sign of Colonel Mitchell. He gave them the thumbs up after Sergeant Harriman announced the wormhole was stable. The team disappeared, and so did the general, off to his office to prepare for any aftermath.

"Time to call in a friend."

----

Two Jaffa deposited Cameron Mitchell back in the center of his cell. He was barely conscious. His shirt was now largely destroyed, though he saw no blood, much to his captor's credit. He did smell it though. The stench was all over him. Maybe they'd cleaned him. He felt filthy, though cleaner than he remembered feeling earlier. It wasn't until the two guards left him alone in the cell again that Cameron finally released a breath he knew he'd been holding. He groaned from the pain that was all too real. His muscles were sore, his skin was red and patchy in some places... hell, even his bones hurt. He'd expended so much of his sanity and energy on maintaining an air of dignity throughout the entire capture ordeal that there was little he could do while alone outside of sleep and prepare for the next bout of 'interrogation' with either Ba'al himself or Cameron's good friend Juggernaut.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Cam," he mumbled to himself, trying to work on the kinks in his right bicep. He stared at the ceiling everyday – or at least what he perceived as every day. He had no idea how much time had really passed since he'd been in captivity. His captors never told him. Really, they never said anything to him. Never asked questions, never outlined elaborate and sinister plots, never told him resistance was futile... they just smiled as they ran him through more routine torture.

His awake mind inevitably found its way to thoughts of home. He tried to recall Carolyn's smile, though some days he couldn't think past his own pain, to remember the laughs of Sam, Daniel, and the wry grins of Teal'c... Cameron was losing his mind being cooped up. He could deal with the endless pain and the torture... to a degree, at least, but the loneliness and longing was slowly driving him mad. He brushed a hand against his cheek, grimacing at the feel of a thick beard, which told him he'd been a captive for quite some time; weeks more than likely. Cam cursed as he rolled onto his side and tried to sleep, despite the blinding light and fluctuating temperatures of his cell.

Some time later, though Cameron had long ago lost all sense of time, his guards returned and dragged him to his feet. He knew from experience that if he were to struggle, he'd be on the receiving end of a zat, and so he slowly trudged along with his armed Jaffa escorts. As they drew nearer to the usual room, which he'd nicknamed 'The Hop', Cameron couldn't stifle an audible groan. It earned him an elbow in the already tender ribs. The two guards dropped him again on the floor and took their positions guarding outside. Cam knew he was in for a special treatment when Juggernaut picked him up from the ground and deposited against a tilted wall and strapped him onto it. If anything, the wall reminded him of one of those tilting blackboards that could be written on both sides, like he'd known high school. This, however, was covered in what looked like diagnostics and straps, with a little football helmet at head-height.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Mitchell."

Cam struggled and fought to turn his head and glance at his addressor, but the bindings Juggernaut had just finished adjusting prevented it. It didn't matter anyways, as the speaker walked into Cam's field of vision in short order. It was, of course, Ba'al in his typical black and gold finery. His theatrical flourish and dramatic entrances were quite pretentious, Cam thought, but they were preferable to the blunt sadism of Juggernaut and his cronies.

"Ba'al," Cam ground out from a clenched jaw, forced closed by his restraints. After spending the better part of two minutes trying to move any part of his body, he gave up and surrendered to the inevitability of it all. The only body part he found he could move was his ears and what the hell good would they do?

"You'll find you're quite unable to move," Ba'al announced unnecessarily, evoking the roll of Cameron's eyes. Ba'al's monologues entered the realm of tedium on a regular basis. Cameron oftentimes found himself preferring the physical torture over having to listen to the pompous windbag's self-congratulatory back patting or his Pinky-and-the-Brain-esque 'take over the universe' diatribes. Lucky for Cameron, that day wasn't going to be one of those days.

Ba'al swept to Cameron's side, his fist clenched firmly around some item that eluded Cam's field of vision. When Ba'al produced the item, Cameron's heart nearly exploded from within his chest. It was the picture of him and Carolyn from the time they'd visited his parents on the farm. It had been in his wallet, likely taken from him when Ba'al's men had stripped him of his belongings. His mother had taken the picture, he remembered. Cam and Carolyn were seated together on the picnic table outside, their arms around one another and hands clasped together on the table. Their cheeks were almost touching. He had worn a simple blue-gray long sleeved shirt and jeans; Carolyn was the very picture of beauty in one of his Air Force zip-ups over her cerulean blue tank top and faded green cargo pants. So many memories rushed to his mind from the picture – their first kiss, the second, multiple dates, the first time she'd spent the night, going for ice cream together, watching a movie in the quiet of her apartment, spending time together on his couch, stolen glances at the SGC, dinner with her parents just a short time ago...

A victorious laugh broke Cam's reverie. Ba'al had snatched the small crinkled picture away and was now analyzing it quite closely. "She's a pretty one," he remarked.

"Go to hell," Cameron snarled through his teeth, every muscle in his body taut and rigid. He was at that time again reminded of the brevity of his dress – only his socks, boxer shorts, and a mostly-ruined black shirt. Ba'al could easily see every inch of wired muscle and how his body reacted to the man's devices.

"So impetuous against one's captor," Ba'al laughed, glancing at Juggernaut. "We'll have to have some fun with that, I believe."

Cameron was just about to make a remark before the men in front of him and the golden bulkheads of the Goa'uld ship evaporated before his very eyes. He glanced around for several moments, trying to discern his new location. It looked eerily like the SGC's infirmary. He sat up from the hospital gurney and surveyed the room. Empty, save for him. Across the room, though, he saw the glimmer of a light from Carolyn's office. He walked over and poked his head in.

There she was, like his mind had conjured the image from his memory and brought her to him. She glanced up at him with a brilliant smile, rising from her desk and joining him in a tight embrace. It was all so real... Cameron found himself lost in the moment, just enjoying the feel of Carolyn in his arms. She looked like he remembered, smelled like lavender, her eyes were bright and full of life. He never stopped to wonder why it seemed so romanticized, just enjoying the moment presented before him.

"Cameron, we need to talk."

His eyes opened as she pulled away. "Talk?" he wondered.

"Yes," suddenly her eyes were haunted and guarded, their joyful light extinguished. She leaned back and sat on the edge of her desk. Her arms crossed over her chest as she took on an air of seriousness. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What's that, babe?"

"I'm pregnant." Cameron felt his heart alight with joy. He crossed the three steps to her and went to wrap her up in another hug, but she held him back at arm's length. "It isn't yours," she said at last. There was no compassion, no apology in her voice. Just the cold, brutal truth.

There was suddenly a harsh pain in Cam's chest; beneath his skin, muscle, under bone and tissue, square in his chest. His head throbbed, a dull pain overcoming his thought processes. "What?"

"I found someone else," she added, fanning the flames of despair. "Goodbye, Cameron," and with that she left the room, leaving Cameron to his pain and desolation. He collapsed to his knees, head in his hands. Tears threatened to fall and he made not effort to stop them, but they would not come. His body shook with sobs, but he made no sound. Every inch of his body was on fire. He hurt all over. Cameron opened his eyes again to see all of his dreams and hopes vanish. He closed his eyes again.

When they opened, he wasn't in the SGC. He was back in the cold, bright cell on Ba'al's ship. He was facedown in a puddle of his own blood, dark and haunting. Cam felt at his face, searching for it's source. His nose, though not broken, had evidently bled out under the stress of his torture. He curled into the fetal position, fighting against the tide of despair that threatened to overtake him. His world was suddenly without any joy or brightness. His Carolyn was pregnant and with another man. Cameron was so sore, so tired, so depressed that he never stopped to consider Ba'al's lies for what they were. Finally a groan escape the man's lips and the tears fell.

At the cell door Ba'al watched, a wide, sinister grin on his features as he watched Cameron Mitchell breaking himself down in a way no torture could. Ba'al had used the picture of the man's woman from Mitchell's belongings to open up his mind to his vast array of memories, and from there, he'd simply had to pluck one such memory from the mass and trigger it in Mitchell's mind. Ba'al had provided the stimulus and scenario, and Cameron's mind had done the rest. As Ba'al left the despairing man, he made no effort to stifle the eerie laughter that came from deep in his black heart.

* * *

Originally this chapter was almost double the length, including what is now the next chapter (and will be up in the next few days), but I decided to cut it down and break it into two seperate chapters for both dramatic purpose and to allow more time to elaborate on the next, very emotion-driven chapter. I promise you'll all love it. You'll see lots of the Team, plus some Vala, Carolyn, Hank, and Jack. Stay tuned (and please review!) 


	5. Missing In Action

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

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_Welcome to the emotional aftermath of the SG-1 missions to P4X-911 and an official announcement on Cameron Mitchell. Here's chapter 5 of__Stronger_

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

_Chapter dedicated to all of my wonderful reviews, especially you regulars who keep coming back! (You know who you are!) _

* * *

Chapter V: Missing In Action

Two weeks passed. Hope was no longer a commodity that the SGC clung to. SG-1, initially under Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, had conducted searching missions of P4X-911. From what they could tell, both the Jaffa and Ori soldiers had abandoned the entire planet. One or the other had picked up the corpses of their fallen. And so SG-1 had returned, despondent with their lack of success or even progress in the hunt for Colonel Cameron Mitchell. On the first day after that first week of failed missions, General Jack O'Neill had taken over SG-1 on General Landry's request. Jack was no less distressed by the missing Mitchell than the rest of SG-1, but he was less fatigued by the string of failures and might be able to keep his head above the proverbial tide. Having Jack around helped boost SGC morale and bring the beleaguered team together.

Hank Landry had then talked to his daughter. At first she'd seemed understanding, after all it had only been a few days since Cameron had been missing. He was probably just using standard Escape and Evasion tactics to avoid the enemy and return to the 911 Stargate. Cameron would likely return home in just a short time. But as that week passed and then another, the entire SGC began to lose hope. Hank had reluctantly issued a base-wide address that announced Colonel Cameron Mitchell as Missing In Action. The base stopped all functions for a moment as the shock set in. It had been a very long time since any member of the SGC had been reported as MIA. KIA on the rare occasion, or missing for a few days until they made their way home, but Mitchell was the only MIA in quite a long time.

When Carolyn arrived in his office, Hank's heart really collapsed in his chest. The tears in Carolyn's eyes when he'd told her Cameron was missing had broken his heart, but now that he was officially MIA, she looked completely despondent. Hank immediately felt like that bad guy, though he certainly was not at fault, nor did Carolyn blame him any. He just hated being the bearer of bad news to his only child. What hurt him the most, though, were not the tears. Her face went blank as she collapsed to her knees, tears spilling onto her cheeks. She looked utterly lost, as if part of her had been ripped out and taken away.

----

Teal'c stood stock-still. In his strong hands remained the staff weapon he often engaged Colonel Mitchell with. They'd spend long hours attacking and defending against each other, two warriors locked in mock combat. But now, as Teal'c listened to General Landry report Mitchell as MIA, some part of him was sad. He had never had many friends, but since arriving at the SGC over ten years earlier, he'd made several. Though only more recently, over the last two years, had Teal'c and Mitchell become close friends, Teal'c could still not help but feel sad at the loss of a friend.

A darker, more focused and malevolent emotion took over the large Jaffa. He raised the staff and swung it at a nearby heavy bag. The leather bag exploded in a spray of its insides, spilling debris across the floor. Teal'c roared as he threw the staff. He had not stopped to check on his teammate after defeating the Ba'al Jaffa. He blamed himself for their capture, for leaving Mitchell behind. Teal'c cursed, retrieved the staff, and swiftly broke it over his knee. He tossed the remains of the training weapon at the wall, abandoning the room and stalking off elsewhere.

As a Jaffa, Teal'c had never worried about emotions or how to deal with loss. He simply did not feel those worries and cares until coming to Earth and interacting with the Tau'ri on a daily basis. Their emotions and concerns had become his. Teal'c cursed the weakness in his body as he stalked down the hallways of the SGC. It was his fault that Mitchell was missing, he was sure of it.

----

Elsewhere in the SGC, emotions ranged from passive shock and disbelief to the same utter hopelessness felt by Carolyn Lam and Hank Landry. In her private quarters, Samantha Carter collapsed into Jack O'Neill's arms. Her eyes were filled with tears that wouldn't fall, but Jack held her as she shook with sobs. Sam clung to her husband; both glad that she would never have to deal with losing him in Washington but beyond despair with the loss of her old friend. Cameron Mitchell had always been her rock. No matter how bad things seemed to be, he always – more or less – kept his head and had some witty remark or joke to offer. Knowing he was officially missing... well, it felt like a bright star in the universe had winked out.

"Sam," Jack's soft voice brought her back down to reality. He still held her tightly. "It's going to be alright. We might still find him."

Sam glanced up at Jack, not releasing him from her grip. "You're right." She dried her tears, though there was no flicker of hope for her to cling to. There was little doubt in Samantha Carter's mind that Cameron Mitchell was gone. She sat down on the loveseat in her quarters with Jack, content only to be with her husband, and fighting the waves of turmoil over a missing Cameron Mitchell.

----

Daniel Jackson looked up from his array of Ancient runes as the broadcast came over the SGC's speaker system. He glanced at Vala, just across the room and previously occupied with some book of his she had actually found interesting, and shared a hard glance. They both listened to the entirety of the report, though they both knew the outcome. Earlier that day, all of SG-1 had reported their findings – or lack there of – to General Landry. They both knew what was coming. Daniel couldn't take his eyes off Vala as hers filled with liquid. His heart was wrenched and his stomach hurt, like he hadn't eaten in a week or something. His close friend was officially MIA.

He'd always found Vala suffocating, but now that they were together and the news of Cameron Mitchell's official status were reported, they crossed the room together and collapsed into each other's arms. Daniel clung to Vala with all his strength as she did to him. Part of Daniel balked at his own feelings. He knew, looking down at Vala as she cried, that he did not feel nearly as sad as he ought to. His friend and teammates was gone and he felt only loss, no sadness. That realization stirred him and made him feel even worse than just the report could.

Vala abruptly broke off her tears and glanced at him. Her makeup had run and her cheeks were covered in dark lines, smudged and smeared. Her lips still held their earlier pout. He brought his mouth down to hers and pressed it to hers, their lips coming together like they never had before. All the feelings of loss and despair took over them both, but behind the negative emotions, a warmer feeling was the driving force behind their outward affections.

They clung to each other for a long while, both afraid to lose the other. They sat together on the cold floor of Daniel's lab as he tried to stifle her sadness with his embrace. Eventually acceptance overrode their emotions. As they came to terms with Cameron, they slowly came to terms with each other.

"I love you, Daniel," Vala whispered against his cheek.

He leaned back and held her out, scanning her features and searching for honesty. Daniel kissed her, slowly and tentatively, different even from the kiss they'd shared just moments before. "I love you too, Vala."

----

Carolyn Lam blinked her burning eyes. There had been a dull pain in her stomach ever since her father had told her that Cameron hadn't made it back through the Stargate with the rest of SG-1. Now that he was Missing In Action, she felt truly and totally lost. She was in her office, in the SGC infirmary, and was staring at the screen on her desktop computer. Arrayed before her was a stack of medical reports and personnel files that she, as CMO of the SGC, was responsible for. But now, as her heart was breaking, she realized she'd been typing the same line for the last page and a half of document. Carolyn dropped her hands to her sides, lowered her head, and forced her eyes closed. She focused solely on breathing for a long while, not willing herself to do anything beyond it.

The moment past and she opened her eyes once again. They were red and puffy, but she hadn't cried. Her eyes were sore, her chest felt like it was clasped between vice clamps, and her stomach was queasy at best. Carolyn felt terrible and worst, Cameron wouldn't be stopping by today to brighten her afternoon. Cameron wouldn't be coming back at all...

She found her mind replaying their last night together over and over. Every detail of the evening came to her memory, flashes of emotions and feelings shortly behind them. She remembered how Cameron had smelled, the warmth behind his smiles, the strength in his arms as he held her... even the way he snored so lightly that he never woke her, save for when she remained awake only to watch him in the peaceful tranquility of sleep. But the only thing that Carolyn could think now was that she might never experience Cameron ever again.

_He can't be really gone..._

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I apologize for the distinct lact of Cam, but everyone else needed some screen time. It was a chance to explore the motivations and emotions of the other characters (and their relationships), something I intend to do more of as this story grows and matures through the chapters. I hope you all enjoyed it. 


	6. The Machinations of a Delusion

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

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_Warning: marginally graphic in some parts, serious Cam-whumping and heavy on angst, our Cameron is really in need of some of that "Hurt/Comfort" that is promised in the story summary, but when will it come?_

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

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Chapter VI: The Machinations of a Delusion

A jarring shake woke Cameron Mitchell from his trauma-induced, fitful rest in the same upright machine he'd been tethered to time and time again. Ba'al and his friends were back, though the Jaffa were unarmed, and Juggernaut was nowhere to be seen. Cameron blinked his pale eyes, trying to dissert the blurry shapes before him. The first Jaffa, a short man, released the clasps that held Cameron's upper body to the metal framework, while another two Jaffa caught him as he fell. _How nice of them_, he thought. No one said a word, and Cameron found himself too sore and too tired to even exchange barbed insults with his captors. He was alarmed to discover that he'd lost feeling in his feet. The fear of losing his ability to walk came shuddering to the surface of his consciousness, but his foot thumped against the bulkhead, and he felt pain. Sweet, blissful, blissful pain.

"Ahh, here we are now," Ba'al's heavily accented voice purred. The room Cameron now found himself in was not unlike the one he'd spent most of his time in over the last two months. Yes, it had been two months. Though he suspected he was losing his mind, and he'd long since lost the ability to recall the faces of his friends, of his parents, even Carolyn, who carried another man's child in her, he could still keep a mental tally of his days in captivity.

Thinking about Carolyn again brought a tear to his eye. He was a broken man, and he knew it. The psychological torture that Ba'al had administered had ruptured his fragile human mind. He'd been forced into imagining countless scenarios in which his closest friends betrayed him, attacked him, and left him for dead; each scenario more terrible than the first. He dimly knew none of it was true, but the level of psychological conditioning Ba'al's technology had put him through, had him questioning his very memories. It reminded him of a similarly terrifying experience on Galera. The tear rolled unhindered down Cameron's cheek. Ba'al glanced at him, but paid it no mind. Ba'al had stopped insulting and degrading Cameron weeks ago, he no longer found it necessary to mock the man personally, preferring to allow the subconscious to do it for him.

"I am going to reveal some very important things to you know, Colonel Mitchell," Ba'al drawled on, secure in his arrogance. "I hope your feeble mind manages to keep up with the proceedings."

Cameron blinked and leveled a weak glare at Ba'al, but inside he was beyond glad to hear the worldly insults again. It was a damn fine break from the torture his own imagination put him through on a regular basis as of late. "What you got for me?" he tried to say, but it came out more as "Wazugtme?"

Ba'al laughed then, stepping out of Cameron's field of vision. He was allowed a better look at the room now. Indeed, it was very similar to his own accommodations, but occupied now. In an eerie similar frame device, a very pale elderly man was attached to life support and the same wires and technology Cameron remembered vividly. Even more recognizable was the markings and clothing of the man on the torture frame. It was an Ori prior, and he looked far worse for wear than Cameron could imagine. His pale skin was approaching translucency, blotched with bruises and cuts, and his ivory eyes had little color if any now. The man's head lolled to the side, unnervingly lifeless, but the twitches in his fingers and feet remarked an inner resolve despite the torture he underwent.

"Look familiar, Colonel Mitchell?" Ba'al asked. "It should. Our friend here is experiencing the same luxury you yourself have enjoyed over the last two months."

_Thank you for confirming my suspicions, you bastard_, Cameron thought to himself. From his time in Special Operations, and the POW training he'd received, he knew hope was his number one savior and weapon, hope in himself and his abilities, and maintaining that hope was paramount to survival. By confirming Cameron's mental day count, Cam instantly knew he hadn't completely lose his mind. He just glared at Ba'al, unwilling to speak.

Ba'al laughed again. "So defiant, to the last. You see those delightful devices our friend is hooked up to? Why, those are not so different than yours. We have a mutual acquaintance on a planet called Galera, who specializes in memory modification. We used that technology to defocus the Prior's mental acuity, giving my Jaffa the edge over the Ori soldiers. Surely you noticed that on the planet you were captured on?"

Cameron hung his head, still being supported by his two Jaffa escorts. The explanation, that the entirety of Cameron's recent memory was falsified, that Carolyn wasn't pregnant by another man and his friends didn't hate him, was completely lost on him. He was mindlessly tired of hearing Ba'al drivel on about his own accomplishments. Even learning that he'd discovered a way to block the Ori powers to a prior meant little now; Cameron had long since stopped caring about anything more than survival. He groaned, hoping the lack of enthusiasm would result in a beating and being taken back to his cell for a period of rest, no matter how short it may be. Cameron thought it was sadly telling of his mental condition that he welcomed the physical abuse, for it offered him a break from the ongoing mental abuse he'd been subjected to all too often.

The room fell silent. Ba'al glared at the human for a long period, before making a snapping gesture and having the Jaffa remove him from his sight. Cameron was thankful, though he quickly grew resentful, when the Jaffa guards dropped him and continued dragging him bodily back to the cell. Consciousness came and went; he found his mind wandering the galaxy along what seemed much like the near-instantaneous transport lanes of the Stargate. His mind played pictures of the people he had met, the worlds he had seen, the adventures he had... and SG-1 was with him, and for once, they weren't taking part in the torture or reminding him of terrible things he'd done or had happen to him. For a moment, Cameron found some semblance of peace, of his own personal heaven, in the deepest recesses of his mind.

It was not to last, though.

----

A violent shudder shook the Goa'uld mother ship. Cameron was dropped and discarded on the floor.

Another shudder.

Sounds of staff weapon fire echoed throughout the corridors.

An explosion.

Cameron tried to move, but the pain was overwhelming. His shoulder had been dislocated in the fall.

A clank and a groan.

He wrenched his head to see one of the Jaffa escorts lying lifeless, his open eyes unliving.

Cameron groaned.

Chattering, chanting, echoed throughout the ship. More staff weapon fire.

Cameron felt himself being lifted, plucked back into the air, but gently so. It felt fantastic. Finally, he faded back into slumber, but the nightmares were there, eagerly awaiting his inevitable return to their horrible clutches.

----

Another jarring shudder brought Cameron back to reality. He was really beginning to resent the mishandling he endured. When his eyes opened, they saw an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar faces; all glaring at him with a fury he'd not seen in Ba'al's Jaffa. Some wore tunics, but overall, the preferred dress of day seemed to be leather and plate armor, with staff weapons, as if Cameron had appeared in some terrible fantasy movie. Unfortunately for him, it was no movie, and it was anything but a fantasy. The men parted, for they were all male, and two robed individuals walked through the opening lined by soldiers.

A startlingly beautiful young woman was escorted by an old man who had seen better days. Cameron opened his eyes wider, only partly alarmed to discover he could only see well through one, and analyzed the newcomers. It was Adria, Val Mal Doran's 'over-aged, delusions of grandeur' daughter, and the same Ori Prior Cameron had seen back on Ba'al's mother ship. He looked better than he had earlier, the all too familiar prior serenity having returned to his countenance and expression. Adria, however, looked upon him with an unarming curiosity and pity. He hated it.

The young woman, scantily dressed for her part in a revealing robe, signaled for her entourage to leave her with the prisoner. Only the prior remained with her. The door behind them whisked shut, leaving a nearly naked Cameron Mitchell alone with an Ori prior and the Orici herself. Cameron groaned, a reaction he was becoming too familiar with, as the prior dropped back and allowed Adria free reign of the room. She paced closer, taking in every inch of his body, from the scars, the bruises, the dried blood, and the salty sweat that clogged his pores and made him feel filthy. A small smile was on her lips the whole time, as if she liked what she saw, but the feral look in her eyes made Cameron imagine it was more that she enjoyed seeing Ba'al's handiwork than the body he'd worked so hard to chisel into something both attractive and useful.

"Cameron Mitchell," she breathed at last, taking a step back with mocking reverence. "Rescued from the clutches of Ba'al by the Children of the Ori and their Orici."

"Full of yourself," he grunted, glancing up with half-lidded eyes.

"What was that?" she asked mockingly, stepping closer. He could feel the heat of her skin on his cheek, she was so close now. Her warm breath brushed his ear and neck. Any other woman, any other time, it would be enjoyable, but not here, not now. "Did you say something, Cameron?"

Cameron sighed. He was tired of megalomaniacs and their pretentious games. He just plain Jane, flat-out, no ifs-and-or-buts, _did not care anymore_. A violent gesture, a sudden reaction, Cameron reared his head up and forced it to the side, despite his restraints, and fixed Adria with the most venomous glare he could manage, made all the more hideous by his bruises and scars. "I said get out of my face," he hissed at her. He would have spat, had he the saliva to do so, but the dry, almost salt flat-like texture of his mouth prevented him from doing just that.

Adria laughed lightly, not an unpleasant sound. She brought her face down again, near his cheek, and whispered, "You'll be seeing a lot more of me, my dear."

She pressed a light kiss to an unblemished part of his cheek. Cameron knew he should be revolted, but after two months of torture, his body was so starved for human contact, for the warmth of another's touch and presence, that he very nearly leaned into the gesture. It felt too good, he knew, it was all a game, he knew, but _damn_ if it didn't feel real nice. As Adria took a step away, joining her prior by the door, she winked at him and disappeared into the corridor beyond. Cameron was alone again, and he finally released the breath he'd been holding. As he watched them go, he lost it. Tears fell down his injured cheeks. He tried to summon a happy thought, any thought, to his imagination, but SG-1 wouldn't come, nor his family, not even Lyn, his beautiful Lyn.

But she wasn't his anymore, he reminded himself distantly. She had moved on, some time ago. All of them must have. He had been missing for over two months, and who waited that long? Not the team who had never wanted him, not the woman who had never needed or loved him, and certainly not the world who had never appreciated him. Perhaps, Cameron considered, just perhaps, they were better off without him. And, among other things, that meant he was better off without them.

And that was the thought he held, right up until electricity surged through his body. Nerves fired off randomly as the shocking pain tore through his body and rendered him mindless. The level of pain his body tolerated was only so much, and this new type of torture would have been a pleasant change, had it let him lose consciousness like Ba'al's had. But no, there was no happy ending with the Ori. After what was only minutes, but felt like years, the pain stopped. A bone-chilling cold replaced it, magnified by the brevity of his dress, and Cameron slouched against the cold cable restraints. He stared at the floor and let the tears come. He wasn't even alarmed to see a puddle of his own vomit at his feet, though he couldn't imagine what he'd thrown up, for he couldn't remember eating anything.

When he opened his eyes, there she was. Dark, beautiful, and alluring. Her skin was flawless, her dark, raven hair falling in locks of onyx and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Cameron would have smiled, if his lips had feeling in them. The last thing he remembered before slipping into sleep, where the nightmares were a better alternative to Ori torture, was how much Adria reminded him of Carolyn Lam.

And it didn't bother him one bit.

* * *

DUN DUN DUN!! dramatic music 

What's happening here? When one thinks his mind has cleared, that Carolyn is so near to his mind, she disappears and is replaced by something far more sinister! I hope you all enjoyed this, I know I did. Sorry it took so long. I won't make any promises, save this: all is not hopeless, there is always a sunrise after the deep dark of night.


	7. Subtle Changes

Stronger Now Than We Ever Were

* * *

_Getting closer to home. Sorry for the incredibly long delay._

_Disclaimer: Stargate and its characters do not belong to me. I'm just playing in the Cosmic Sandbox here._

* * *

Chapter VII: Subtle Changes

The constancy of the temperature aboard an Ori mother ship had irked Cameron Mitchell at first, but he soon began to appreciate the delightful monotony as opposed to the harsh extremes he had been subjected to on Ba'al's ship. He was also adverse to the mindless punishment and abuse he'd suffered there, so there change of pace in his present circumstances was similarly appreciable. Cameron stretched as he walked into the corridor, acknowledging the plain-clothed guardsman outside his chambers.

"Blessed are the Ori," the man commented reverently, his rigid posture not betraying any anxiety the man surely must feel.

Though he couldn't have known it, there was an air of hushed whispers and rumor spreading throughout the ship and Ori territory. It seemed that a great warrior of the Tau'ri had turned himself in, realizing the Light of the Ori, and had been named the Consort of the Orici, the Ca'Orici. Among the ruling caste, the Priors and others, marriage was a forbidden institution since it distracted from spreading the word of the Ori. As the Ori could easily turn ordinary sentients to powerful Priors, the need for reproduction amongst the high echelons of Ori power was unnecessary. Cameron was blissfully unaware to the proceedings and hushed whispers elsewhere; he was just plain glad to be free of the various electric chairs from outer space, and he'd been similarly grateful when an apparently outraged Adria came to his quarters and freed him from the ongoing torture.

At the time he'd fallen gratefully into her arms, though the action was more due to gravity than appreciation, and allowed her to hold him. Her caresses had taken him away from the pain and damage his body has sustained, and even allowed him to momentarily forget the damage to his mind, memories, and body. After the initial 'rescue', the Orici had been a regular visitor and confidant to Cameron. She'd spend many long hours in his chamber, watching over him as he slept in dreamless bliss, or sharing with him her very human fears and concerns. Wisely, when they shared time, there were no discussions of Earth or the Ori, of religion and conquest. It was just Adria and Cameron, two wayward humans among the stars, and so their relationship continued over time, always being carefully nurtured by Adria and her closest Priors. After two months among the Orici and her fanatical followers, Cameron was largely free to wander the ship as he willed, though never without his guard.

He was nonetheless appreciative for the relative freedom and the warm, though spartan, quarters he'd been granted, and even though he had resented her at first, Adria was the closest thing he had to a friend there... wherever there was. He had come to enjoy her company, and like Prom night, he knew she wanted their friendship to go further, but a nagging concern in dimmest reaches of the back of his mind kept him from acting on any urges she might have sought to inspire in him. The flesh was weak, he knew, so Cameron's personal vigil had become keeping his mind of his own matter. It was all he really had left, sadly, clinging to his minute claim to sanity. Cameron had always thought he wandered off the beaten path, but now that he was lost to the depths of outer space, he was fairly sure that his ship had sailed.

The Ori were wise to keep him noticeably weak; their medical treatments were half-efforts. What good they did do was merely to preserve his body and what parts of his mind they needed. Infection was staved off and some of his wounds were eased, though for the most part Cameron was ill more often than not. The only small comforts he continued to find was the easier way of live compared that he'd had under Ba'al, and the hours he spent with Adria. At first there had been surprise, but in Cameron's fragile mental state, he'd already forgotten the long arduous history and had come to just accept her. In other circumstances that surely would have distressed the man, but again, insanity makes for unusual bed partners.

"Cameron," an alto voice purred. Cameron continued staring out the viewport into the starry space beyond. The rich, varied colors always enrapt his attention. There had been a time, five years ago perhaps, when all that Cameron loved was the freedom of the sky. That was before the Stargate and his first steps beyond earth, into the cold loneliness of space and the only true, final frontier.

A warm breath on his ear made Cameron shiver, alerting him to Adria's proximity. Her sinewy arms encircled his waist in a tender embrace, already betraying her affections, true or false though they may be. Cam closed his eyes. No matter how peaceful she was around him, her ministrations always seemed _forced_ and somehow _wrong_. Everything about Adria was somehow more sinister than everything else.

"I missed you," she whispered against the back of his neck.

Cameron turned his head so he could see her in his periphery. She was beautiful, gorgeous even. Would it really be such a crime to become her consort and help inspire her people? Part of him so badly wanted to give in to her, to enjoy what had been denied to him for so long. He just wanted to _feel_ again; happiness, joy, or comfort. For as long as his memory would allow him to recall, there was a gaping hole where his heart should have been. Cameron wasn't a whole man, not since being captured by Ba'al, though he couldn't remember a time before then.

"I missed you too, Adria," he murmured. Her breath on the longer hair on the back of his neck forced a shiver, but it was a comforting reaction. He body tinged with warmth. He felt whole. In the time he'd been away from earth, his hair had grown out a few inches. His beard, having gone unshaven for several months, was now thick and covered much of his face. Were someone to see him, they'd hardly imagine he was Cameron Mitchell of the Tau'ri. He'd practically become an entirely different person.

He turned in Adria's arms to face her. "We're having a banquet tonight," she announced, still holding him affectionately. "You're to be the guest of honor."

Cameron forced a smile. He hated fancy to-do's, but he knew this was expected of him... not just by Adria, but also by the whole Ori high command. "I would like that," he said, stiff and formal.

"I'll send one of our officers in as your escort, and to help you find something fitting to wear," she purred, wiggling her hips as she walked out the door again. Male instincts gave in and he watched her shapely form as Adria retreated from his presence, being replaced by a short man with shaggy hair.

As the man entered, he executed a stiff, formal bow. "Ca'Orici, I am Tomin. I'm to be your escort for the night." A wave of uncertainty swept over Cameron. There was something _off _about this Tomin, though Cameron could not quite figure out what it was. He committed the man's face to memory as they selected appropriate attire for Adria's banquet. As the two men marched off to the dining bay aboard the Ori mother ship, Cameron's feeling of unease magnified tenfold. By the time he stepped into the room, he was practically shaking.

--

Several exhausting hours later, Cameron flopped onto his stately bed. Adria had bid him goodnight at the banquet, after a very fiery, and very _public_ kiss. Like a shadow, Tomin had followed him from the banquet and into the series of rooms that had been designated as Cameron's. Stifling a groan with whatever mental acuity he had left, Cameron spread his legs and arms out like a star and stared at the ceiling – bulkhead, roof, upper-architectural-thingy? – and blocked all thought from going on in his mind. He remained effectively comatose for several long minutes, before the nagging awareness of his unwanted guest forced Cameron out of his much-needed and much-desired oblivion. Tomin, though quiet and unobtrusive initially, became the dull roar in the vacant reaches of Cameron's mind that had, until then, remained largely quiet.

"Why are you still here?" he wheezed with exasperation, though remained in exactly the same position he'd held for the past quarter-hour.

Tomin shifted his weight to the other foot, before crossing the room toward Cameron. "You know Vala Mal Duran?"

Cameron blinked rapidly, his mind going into overdrive. Merely hearing the name affected him deeply; calling back each and every painful 'memory' he'd been subjected to under Ba'al's tutelage. Just as quickly as the implanted memories were called to mind, the real ones followed on their metaphysical heels. Cameron was left with two equally 'real' and equally prominent sets of memories and, in his weakened mental state, was torn between the two. To the best of his ability, he could no easier discredit one memory against another, nor understand why they repeatedly contradicted each other. The dull roar from earlier eased only to intensity like a beating bass drum, thumping the delicate innards of Cameron's nerve center with a pulsing pain.

He groaned. "Yes," was his only reply, whispered as it was. He sounded more hurt than familiar.

"Is she well?"

"I give a damn?"

Tomin seemed taken aback for only the briefest second. "But you _are _Cameron Mitchell of the Tau'ri, member of the vaunted SG-1?"

"I was."

"Was?"

Cameron nodded meekly, the only real movement he'd made outside of the necessary ministrations of his vocal chords and lips needed to form the words he'd spoken. "Until they left me for dead. They never needed me anyway... not Jack... just useless, troublesome Mitchell..." he continued muttering plainly to himself.

"I need to speak with Vala," Tomin intoned directly, leaving no doubt to the magnitude behind his request.

"Then go find her," Cameron replied simply. "It's not my problem."

Tomin's eyes lidded slightly then; his expression became one of leering derision. If the expression wasn't enough to tell Cameron he was treading on thin ice, the rigid body posture he'd adopted certainly would. An eternity of heartbeats passed before either man moved, staring the other down and waiting for the other to say or do something further. Tomin wanted to knock sense into the Earthman, while Cameron was hoping Tomin would simply accept what he'd said at face value and merely leave.

"You're an arrogant oaf," Tomin said at last, "who cannot see what great gifts he has in his life."

"Buddy, if you think Vala is a gift..."

"She is. All of your friends are. I've lived alone for much of my life and when I finally found Origin, I thought I had found a purpose to my life... but it's all a lie," Tomin continued muttering to himself about deception and the 'cruel realities of the universe' while Cameron looked on and tried to decipher exactly what he was hearing.

When had he lost sight of all that was important to him? Cameron turned away from Tomin and stared out the viewport into the depths of deep space. He'd been aboard the Ori mother ship for longer than he could remember now. Even his time spent as Ba'al's slave seemed to be another life, as if he'd read it in a history textbook, rather than lived it himself. The mere attempt to remember anything before Cam's Goa'uld captivity brought waves of throbbing pain to his temples.

Tomin seemed to sense that his companion was under duress and moved to Cameron's side. "Ca'Orici," he said, forgetting his own epiphanies in an instant, "what ails you?"

Cameron swatted at the shorter man, struggling to get his own tumultuous mind under control. He certainly did not need Tomin, Mr. Living-Breathing-Pain-in-the-ass-Walking-Conscience, helping. Images of SG-1 flashed through his mind, memories coming to him in waves. Cameron was not prepared for the onslaught, forcing him to his knees and his hands to his head. The only side-thought Cameron could consider was how badly he wished he was back home in Shawnee County with his ma and pa.

His years with SG-1 flashed by, each and every mission, every near miss, every close encounter, every ache, scrape, and mind-rape relived. Every memory returned with all the vivid surreality it had first occurred with. It was like being hit by a car, somehow worse than crashing in Antarctica, until he relived that too. His throbbing head felt as if it would explode until suddenly... it all just ceased.

Hesitantly Cameron opened his eyes, one at a time, as if waiting for the cranial barrage to continue. Still kneeling, Cameron groped around, searching for any of the injuries he'd just experienced.

"Damn," Cameron cursed. "Now I wish I'd paid more attention to Dr. Pernal's repressed memory lectures." Tomin regarded the other man quizzically, as Cameron climbed to his feet. "Oh, and Tomin? Never call me that again."

There seemed to be a new vigor in the Tau'ri now. Some of the brightness had returned to his eyes, as if he were seeing the light. In some ways, perhaps he was. Cameron still felt overwhelmed to suddenly recall every memory that had been blocked by Ba'al and Adria, but now he remembered every little depressing detail. First and foremost, he considered, was getting away from the megalomaniacal nymph before she tried impregnating him!

"Tomin, it's time for us to leave this shindig."


End file.
